There's Something So Raw And Beautiful About Humanity In Love. I Am A Mosaic Of People Who Have Been

there's something so raw and beautiful about humanity in love. i am a mosaic of people who have been in love, and it ends with me. i have my mother's eyes, my father's need for spontaneity, my grandmother's patience, my aunt's love of space, etc. and mixed and molded together it created me.

one of humanity's biggest continual theme is the fear of being forgotten. hands chip away at marble to create statues that beg to not be forgotten. brushes held by people, every stroke a constant prayer to be remembered at all. we forget as time goes on and nobody wants to forget. nobody wants to be forgotten. we want the world to remain in vivid colors in memory, remember their touch, his eyes, her breathy whispers, his dimples. i want to be remembered. as a poet and artist, sure, but more for simply being human. there is no criteria a person should have to meet for being memorable. i remember everyone for as long as i can. my mother died in May, but i still remember her laugh. i have her laugh.

when are the dead really gone? of course, when their heart stops and they aren't breathing. but, under the hopeful assumption that we have souls or spirits, why then does their presence linger? my mother's soul is stained on my hands and hangs in my hair like the smoke from her cigarettes. my father's soul is nestled in the deepest crevice of my heart, hidden away in my primitive urge to forget him. i won't forget him.

i wouldn't be a good mother. i am from a family of bad parents and even worse kids. as a girl with a tendency to bite affectionately, it's a shame my teeth are coated in poison. i am a mother figure already, to my three younger siblings. they are scared of me. i have breakdowns if nothing works. i can't stand infants. i have, on multiple occasions, hit my youngest sister for not cooperating. i come from a family of control. really, all i want is tenderness and domesticness. but instead every aspect of my life is a fight for control. i want to live without fighting for it.

humanity in love is stupid. it's beautiful. we create poetry, songs, plays, novels, movies, musicals, art, etc. to show our devotion. i hope i never fall out of love. i hope i never lose my humanity.

Leila Chatti, from "Postcard from Gone"

Wounds of the Earth

— by xis.lanyx

❦ we were born to be free ❦

today i will get out of bed. i will open the blinds, and i will soak up the sunlight like a sponge soaking up water. i will look at the things he gave me, and every picture of me and a dead person on my mirror. and today, ill know it was for the better. i will go to school and understand the unspoken rules the girls have. i will follow them. and even though i do not look like they want me to, i am smart enough to keep myself together when they call me names. i will get home at three and call my best friend. i will talk bad about a girl who is like a mirror image of me. she is reverse, but too similar. still too similar. and i will let my brother scream at me, because i would scream at me too if i could. i know it's because i look too much like my mother. that's not the only thing i inherited from her, but it's the only thing people who didn't know her will notice we share. i also have her hunger for destruction. the bubbling of ache under our skin was shared. but she pulled it together enough to have a family, whereas i never will. the twin sized mattress i sleep on calls my name. i lay down to stare at the stick on stars on my ceiling. they're in the virgo and leo constellations. they mean the most to me. im a scorpio. i will wait until after dark to text his old account. and maybe i will know it's for the better that he left today. but i have texted him for too long, and it is already tomorrow. and i have deluded myself into believing he still thinks about me. and i will go to bed, and wake up at five. and i will lay in bed for another hour. today i will rot in bed. today i will know it was not for the better that they left. today is sunday, after all.

“You’re hesitating, love”